<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>left defeated, it gets held against my name by Lunas_Little_Noodle</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24378028">left defeated, it gets held against my name</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunas_Little_Noodle/pseuds/Lunas_Little_Noodle'>Lunas_Little_Noodle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dimension 20 (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Campaign: A Crown of Candy, Canonical Character Death (mentioned), Consideration of the Cost of War, Disabled Character, Escape, Gen, NPC-Focused, On the Run, References to Canon, Regret, Sign Language, basically how war is a tragedy but especially for the youth, but also im making my own canon now, forgot about limon longhalls so we're assuming he was with the tartguard, running from the capital part 2: everyone else, spoilers up to episode 7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:42:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,142</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24378028</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunas_Little_Noodle/pseuds/Lunas_Little_Noodle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The bells of the cathedral ring loudly in his ears. Calroy watches the message repeat; he flees.</i><br/> <br/>The city of Comida has become incredibly dangerous to the nation of Candia in 12 seconds of combat, yet the retinue of King Amethar remains trapped in the city. Surrounded by enemies, no allies in sight, it's up to Calroy to protect what's left of the Candian delegation in their escape.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Canon Relationships - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>left defeated, it gets held against my name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i cannot have been the only person who ended episode 7 worried as all heck for the candians left behind. cannot believe they've actually started a war in like a week.</p>
<p>sliding this in under the wire before next episode when it'll inevitably be jossed by canon.</p>
<p>title from candy by paolo nutini</p>
<p><b>edit 17/06/2020:</b> well. that's certainly one way to crush me, brennan. can't believe they've killed the swirlies what a cop-out :(</p>
<p>(yes i meant to post this diretly after ep 9 but forgot lol, it's still an hour until the next one)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s when the bells start ringing that Calroy realises something has gone very terribly wrong.</p>
<p>Or rather, he’s been expecting the other shoe to drop ever since the attack on the Sucrosi Road. If he’s being really honest, since the letter from Gustavo arrived for Amethar he’s been on edge. Entering Comida was deliberately wading into the mire of politics and its dangerous undercurrents that Amethar, bless his king, wasn’t always the most aware of. For all he and most of the others seemed to understand the maneuvering of it, they were rather optimistic about the whole thing.</p>
<p>But there is strength in sweetness, and there was enough of a lack of it after the Ravening Wars that he’s willing to do what he can to protect the princesses and young Wilhemina from losing theirs (and later, much later, when Calroy finally meets them all again, and sees Liam’s eyes, and realises he failed–</p>
<p>Well. That is another story).</p>
<p>Yet for all the unity the capital represents, Calroy has never been entirely comfortable walking the streets of the fruits of Gustavo’s labours, even twenty years into the peace of the Concord. He tries not to examine the reasons behind that as he slinks along back alleys and side streets, unwilling to walk the main streets without someone to watch his back. The Tart Guard have accompanied the king to the Cathedral of Saint Arugula, as they should, but a part of him wants to laugh at himself, nearly fifty, afraid to walk the streets in peacetime without a babysitter.</p>
<p>He can tell himself all the excuses he’d like, but when he turns the corner and catches the glare of reflected light off a rooftop, his first instinct is to try and decode Fructeran signaling. But it’s far more likely to be sunlight reflecting off a window, or jewellry catching the light. Or a mirror, reflecting again, twice, pausing. A third flash, then two more in quick succession.</p>
<p>It’s cloudy.</p>
<p>The bells of the cathedral ring loudly in his ears. Calroy watches the message repeat; he flees.</p><hr/>
<p>As he bursts into their shared apartments, Donnie rises to her feet as the Swirlies exclaim in alarm. Calroy shuts the door behind him, crossing to the curtains and pulling them shut as well.</p>
<p>“Whatever is the matter, Lord Cruller?” asks Lord Swirlie, as Calroy moves to the travelling chests set at the foot of the bed.</p>
<p>“Something has gone wrong with the trial,” he says, digging through the court clothes to unearth his adventurer’s pack. </p>
<p>“What!”</p>
<p>“I don’t know exactly what has happened,” and doesn’t that sting, when being the one to know is what has kept him, and King Amethar, alive. “But surely you’ve heard the bells toll across the city? The king and his retinue are considered enemies of the state, on the run from the Imperial guard spreading through the city as we speak!”</p>
<p>“Where could they have gone?” Donnie prompts, catching his arm as his movements become increasingly frantic. Calroy pauses. Breathes through his nose. Amethar had sent no message. Either he couldn’t, or they had already agreed upon a meeting point.</p>
<p>“The harbour,” he says with certainty. “It’s up to us to rejoin him. Currently, we do not know our allies, and so must assume everyone is our enemy until proven otherwise.” He looks across the room.</p>
<p>Lord and Lady Swirlie have risen from the table, eyes wide and terrified but shoulders set. For a moment he is twenty five again, in front of a group of fresh-faced troops of whom most won’t make it to their next Saint’s Day. </p>
<p>He blinks. Lord and Lady Swirlie look back at him. They exchange glances, a silent conversation. Turn back to him. “What do we need to do?”</p>
<p>“We need to leave. Bring only what you must.”</p>
<p>The Swirlies, to their credit, pack what they aren’t willing to part with without undue fuss. Practical, they focus on gems sewn into dress hems, able to be sold, and papers to prove their position. They lock the apartments behind them, hoping for any extra minutes before discovery as they take the least-travelled route out of the apartments.</p>
<p>There are no soldiers in the halls, yet. But as the bells continue to ring across the city, Calroy can feel the atmosphere changing. The few servants they pass in the halls gossip in groups, growing silent as they draw near and watching them as they leave. He can only hope its common curiosity and nothing deeper. </p>
<p>They leave the building by a side exit, but from the mouth of the alley he can see the plaza, while not deserted, is far too empty for midweek. The usual noises of a bustling capital are muted, overtaken by the tolling bells and the sounds of armour on cobblestones as the military presence in the city is increased. From their position, they can’t see what is happening in the rest of the city. Calroy only knows there will be soldiers on the roads, and at this point there might also be soldiers at the harbour. He can only hope the king had reached them with enough time to hide, or if not had found a different route out of the city.</p>
<p>They’re trapped like sugarmice in a barrel, and their opportunities for escape shrink the longer they stay in the city. Their best chance of getting out quickly is the harbour, but that only works if the Dairy Islanders haven’t already set sail. If they have, well. None of the party with the king knows shipcraft. What is an almost overwhelming wave of despair sweeps through Calroy as he thinks of the likelihood of things going wrong, of all the ways they could go wrong.</p>
<p>Donnie rests a hand on his shoulder, breaking his concentration. He spins to face the others. The Lady Swirlie’s hands flow as they form the shapes of Candian sign. His understanding, already dulled by twenty years disuse, is further hindered by the unfamiliar churning motions of the northern dialect.</p>
<p>“My lady wife is right,” says Lord Swirlie, “The late Emperor’s quarters in the Pyramid of Food will surely be emptied for the moment.”</p>
<p>It’s incredibly crass. But also extremely tactical. As the clink of boots on the road gets nearer, and orders to search the area echo through the streets, it seems their only option.</p>
<p>“To the pyramid, then.”</p><hr/>
<p>With their favoured position under Gustavo, the Candian apartments were situated near to the Pyramid of Food. Calroy leads Donnie and the Swirlies through back streets and less travelled roads towards the pyramid, rising high above the rooftops. The weight of his adventurer’s pack feels far heavier than it used to. Still, it’s not long before they reach the pyramid, what guards there might have been at the front searching the streets under the still-ringing bells, and they are able to get inside without notice.</p>
<p>If the streets were far too quiet, then the Great Pyramid of Food is nearly silent. Footsteps seem to echo far louder than they should in the high-ceilinged halls, which at least is helpful in letting them know when to duck into an alcove to avoid detection. Some Vegetanian and Fructaran nobles haunt the hallways, but the usual bustle of nobility that accompanies court had dispersed.</p>
<p>But the energy on the streets had been a whine of distraction. Inside the slanting halls was the apathy of grief. Gustavo had been a good leader during the war, Calroy knew, and it had surely carried forwards. If nothing else, the response to his death in this pyramid proved it. This was the grief of people that loved him.</p>
<p>The last few levels are deserted as they approach the empty room. The guards at the door were gone, no longer anything to guard. The bed seems too large for the room, sheets freshly made. Was it really only hours ago that he watched the body of his old friend be taken away, far smaller in death than he ever was in life?</p>
<p>For a moment Calroy wants to sink to his knees and let grief overwhelm him. Gustavo is dead, and there are years worth of stories that neither of them will get to share, now. He stands, head bowed.</p>
<p>The noises of the city filtering into the room are slowly being consumed by the sounds of soldiers marching. It’s a sound he’s far too familiar with, and one he wished he’d never hear again.</p>
<p>“What happens now?” asks Lord Swirlie. He and his wife are holding hands, and Calroy is struck again by how young they are. They’d seen a trip to the capital as a fun expedition, something to tell friends about at home, and a way to make new ones abroad. </p>
<p>He meets Donnie’s sympathetic gaze. She knows as well as him the cost of war. </p>
<p>“King Amethar was in line to be crowned Concordant Emperor,” he says, instead. “Though I do not know how that would have affected the trial of young Liam, it is obvious something somewhere has gone terribly wrong. I just–”</p>
<p>Donnie’s hand whips across his mouth, and after an adolescence surrounded by siblings it’s only through years of practice that he doesn’t instinctively lick her (though she wouldn’t be surprised if he did). They listen.</p>
<p>Outside, footsteps echo gently down the hall, getting closer. Calroy meets the others’ eyes, and the four of them dash for hiding places. Standing with Lord Swirlie between the curtains, Calroy watches out of the corner of his eye as Donnie rolls under the bed, the Lady Swirlie having already disappeared. His nose is pressed uncomfortably into Lord Swirlie’s side, and he only has a chance to squeeze his arm in apology before the door opens.</p>
<p>The Lady Pumbeline walks in. She moves to the edge of the bed, and in the light from the corridor, her face is a mix of shadows and light. From what he can see of her, blackberry liner is dried in tracks on her cheeks, as if she’d recently been crying. Perhaps she had; her father was dead. She stops wringing her hands to reach for the pillow, as if to stroke an aged purple cheek, before it falls to the comforter. She sits at the side of the bed, regarding the place were yesterday her father lay, wrinkled and weakened, but alive. </p>
<p>The torches in the corridor flare, and Calroy catches a spot of purple on her cheek. A bruise– or blood? His eyes narrow.</p>
<p>Her eyes well with tears, and Plumbeline draws her hands back to her lap. Looks at the empty pillow. “I’m sorry, father,” she whispers. “I thought… I thought I was doing what was right.” Calroy is struck by the fierce desire to have learned magic, if only to know what is running through her head.</p>
<p>Plumbeline stands. A slight wrinkle in the sheets is the only sign she had been there, as the click of her shoes fades down the hallway. He waits five breaths before leaving his hiding place. Gets closer to the bed. There is a spot of purple by the pillow, where Plumbline reached her hand. It’s blood, but– he leans in. This close, the colour is nearer to pink than the dark purple of Fructarans. It smells sweet.</p>
<p>He turns, stomach churning. The Lord Swirlie stands behind him, looking queasy, and Donnie rises next to him, dusting herself off. The silence is only broken by the soldiers marching in the street, and Calroy has to turn away from the heavy curtains. They had already fought their war, there was no need for another. One generation had already been decimated, and even now they had barely clawed their way back to normality. The Concord might not be to everyone’s liking, but it had brought <em> peace </em>.</p>
<p>Footsteps thunder down the hall, and the door bursts open before any of them can think to move. Two figures rocket into the room, shoving the door shut behind them and sinking to the floor. The larger of the two is breathing heavily, cutting through the heavy silence as the two groups regard each other in the gloom. Then–</p>
<p>“Manta Ray Jack?”</p>
<p>And it is. Bloodied and bruised, Sir Morris Brie’s arm under his shoulders likely the only reason he hasn’t completely collapsed to the floor, Manta Ray’s squat, square form is unmistakable.</p>
<p>“Cruller!” Manta Ray roars weakly. Then his eyes drift shut, and Morris staggers as he’s left with the full weight of his partner. On his knees, arms supporting an unconscious Manta Ray, Morris looks up at the three of them. Meets Calroy’s eyes.</p>
<p>“We call,” he says, “upon the friendship between House Lacramore and House Candy.” </p>
<p>The moment stretches. Then; Calroy raises a shaking hand. Crosses it over his chest. Shallowly inclines his head.</p>
<p>Donnie rushes to Manta Ray’s side, skirts pooling around her as she begins to tend his sluggishly bleeding wounds. </p>
<p>Calroy stands next to Morris. “You know I cannot act for the king,” he says.</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“We will do what we can.”</p>
<p>A rueful smile. “I know.”</p>
<p>Donnie works in silence in the dark room. Calroy’s tongue lies heavy in his mouth. He swallows dryly. “Morris, what–”</p>
<p>“Happened?” Morris finishes. “I wish I knew the whole of it.” He glances at Manta Ray. “A spirit tol’ me Candia…” he pauses. “Well, I can’t say fer certain, but they said Manta Ray was chained in the church, and when I got there I found exactly that! It was a harsh fight, but…” he trails off, glances again to Manta Ray, who’s breathing has evened out. Donnie looks up and smiles softly at him. Calroy breathes. At least one of his friends will not yet die today.</p>
<p>“I got ‘im out,” Morris says softly, and the words have the strain of a familiar repetition.</p>
<p>For the first time in a while, Calroy notices Lord Swirlie. The young cone has been watching the room’s exits, unmoving except for his eyes. Then the Lady Swirlie shimmers out of invisibility at the window, and he turns to her. Morris starts, and moves in front of Manta Ray. Calroy breathes through his nose, boxes away his response to the blatant use of magic for after they return to Candia. The Swirlies appear not to notice, hands forming Candian sign too fast for him to translate.</p>
<p>Lord Swirlie turns to him. “The roads out of the city have been even more thickly blocked by Imperial soldiers.” Another flurry of hands. “They are mainly collected at the Glucian Road, but there are soldiers stationed at the roads into Fructera and Vegetania as well.” The curtains twitch the smallest amount, a sharp beam of bulblight cutting through the dark for a moment. Manta Ray stirs weakly from his place on the floor.</p>
<p>The Lord and Lady Swirlie quickly converse, and Calroy notices it is not only a deft grasp of Candian sign, but also the familiarity of a couple that have known each other a long time, talking without the need for language. He looks again at Donnie, who is now bandaging Morris’ wrist.</p>
<p>“The fleet of the Dairy Isles is setting sail from the harbour,” Lord Swirlie says. “Was that not meant to be our escape route?”</p>
<p>Calroy shoots an apologetic look at Morris, who’s own expression appears to be a cross between fondly exasperated and somewhat sheepish. The cuts on his face have stopped bleeding by now, but Donnie runs a cloth over them nevertheless. </p>
<p>“I sent word to my captain what had happened. Seems the gel’s got a sensible head on her shoulders, if they’ve immediately headed out.”</p>
<p>Calroy closes his eyes. Breathes through his nose. He can only hope the king and the others have all gotten out. If not by the harbour, then the roads. He might be lost to him for now, but he knew he <em> would </em>see Amethar again.</p>
<p>“Then we need to find another means of escape,” Calroy says. “My Lady Swirlie, how does the area around our location appear?”</p>
<p>Another quick check, the fast-moving clouds preventing another beam of light from entering the room. Her movements are less frantic, and Calroy only half needs the Lord Swirlie’s translation this time: “It appears the streets are emptying. The soldiers have mainly congregated at the city’s exits.” Another exchange. “There also appears to be an Imperial ship following the Colby and its fleet, but only the one.”</p>
<p>Morris’ shoulders drop, having tensed. Donnie looks at Calroy.</p>
<p>“How do we get out?” she asks. They all look to him. Calroy recalls the conversation of yesterday evening (was it really only yesterday evening?), before Lapin had arrived on the order of the Bulbian Church.</p>
<p>“I have an idea for where we can lay low until dusk. Then we can head out through the outskirts.” He eyes the other Canadians, then his own fancy pants. “Although, we will need to change.”</p><hr/>
<p>Exiting the pyramid takes more effort than entering it, word of the events at the cathedral beginning to filter their way into the palace. Soon enough they find a guardsroom, where the Candians quickly relieve themselves of their brightly-coloured sugarspun robes. Donnie wipes her face clear of the sugary makeup enhancing her natural ridges, while the Lady Swirlie tries unsuccessfully to soften the sharply-defined edges of the swirls of her husband’s head. Lord Swirlie smiles ruefully at her attempts, taking down her waffle cone headdress and tangling his fingers in her hair for a moment. Calroy finds a hooded cloak, and hopes his deception roll will be high enough to appear as a segment of cheese.</p>
<p>Morris watches them, arms full of an unconscious Manta Ray.</p>
<p>From there, it is only a short while later that they exit the pyramid. The clock across the square chimes early afternoon, the sound largely lost in the continued tolling of the bells. Calroy looks at the others, who meet his gaze with grim determination. He takes a moment to plot their route, then leads the group into the city.</p>
<p>It takes upwards of an hour, and Calroy almost despairs at the apparent lack of progress as they dart across the city, sticking to alleys as increasing cloud cover lengthens the shadows far too early for Highbright, but he finally catches sight of a mercenary in a gated garden.</p>
<p>“The former Primogen Alfredi’s house. There appears to be no Imperial guards yet.”</p>
<p><em>“ Former </em> Primogen?” asks Lord Swirlie. Calroy nods. “Will it be safe?”</p>
<p>“I can’t answer that,” he replies. “But if it is not guarded now, then it is the emptiest place I know with certainty in this city where they will likely not think to look for us.”</p>
<p>The emptiness of the streets now works in their favour, as they scale the gate to the palazzo. Morris’ bad leg seizes partway up, and a blistering swear is hissed through his teeth as he tightens his grip on a still-unconscious Manta Ray. They make it over the wall with difficulty, but the mercenary doesn’t notice them, thank the bulb.</p>
<p>Calroy locks eyes with Morris, who nods and turns the others away. He silently approaches the mercenary, and slits her throat.</p>
<p>Except she turns at the last second, and instead it’s the side of her neck that is cut. The wound is deep enough to incapacitate, but it’s only his hand across her mouth that muffles her cry as she struggles in his grasp. Calroy drags the body behind one of the statues in the vestibulum. He’s uninjured, but his arms hang heavy at his sides as he checks the rest of the house, and signals the all-clear to Morris.</p>
<p>The Swirlies eyes widen at his bloodstained clothes, but it’s Donnie who he tries not to face, until she takes his face in her hands and tilts his head to look at hers. There is understanding in her eyes, but sorrow too. This was a side of himself he hoped she would never see again. Perhaps she hoped for that too.</p>
<p>They make camp in the atrium at the rear of the house, entering the gloomy rooms only to search for any supplies they can take in their escape from the city. Seated at the edge of the impluvium, the pool ripples like the pulp bay in miniature, every so often sparkling with reflections when the sun escapes from behind the clouds.</p>
<p>Calroy tries to let himself rest, but spends most of their repose pacing the atrium. Donnie and the Swirlies converse quietly as they divide their scavenged supplies into packs. Morris stares at Manta Ray when he isn’t gazing into the pool, as if he can find answers in its depths. Maybe he does.</p>
<p>As the afternoon progresses, some sound filters in from the street, but the noise is limited. The bells still ring, but this far from the cathedral their sound is lessened, something his blossoming headache is thankful for.</p>
<p>The uneasy peace is broken when Manta Ray wakes, rocketing up with a cry that transforms into a gasp of pain, and Morris is there to support him as he slowly sinks back into his side. He winces as the sun once again comes out from the clouds. As Calroy comes near, Morris finishes his explanation of when and where they are.</p>
<p>“Glad to see you awake,” Calroy says, sitting across from them. Donnie is checking his vitals, and the Swirlies drift closer.</p>
<p>“Aye.” The voice is far too quiet to be coming from Manta Ray Jack. “Really thought I was goin’ ta be stuck in that church forever.” Morris’ hand tightens around his side.</p>
<p>“What happened?” Calroy is very tired of that question.</p>
<p>“Well,” says Manta Ray, “It’s a long tale I don’t know the half of, I‘ll admit, but…” he pauses. Meets Calroy’s eyes. “Your chocolate chancellor has fallen.”</p>
<p>The blood rushes to his ears, drowning out any other noise. The chancellor– Lapin and he had not been close before the capital, but Calroy would call him friend. He remembers the blood on Gustavo’s bed. Donnie’s hand finds his, and he grasps it tightly.</p>
<p>Manta Ray bows his head in sympathy. “I’m sorry. He didn’t seem a bad sort.”</p>
<p>“How?” Donnie asks thickly.</p>
<p>“Well,” says Manta Ray, “you remember Amethar’s young bride?” Calroy nods, heart in his throat. Of all the blasted things–</p>
<p>“He never annulled the marriage, see? The Pontifex found out, and though I’m ashamed I’ll not lie and say it weren’t me who told her–”</p>
<p>“They tortured you!” bursts Morris, turning to fully face Manta Ray. “Don’t you go blaming yourself for what that– what they did to you.” They halfheartedly tussle a moment before Donnie pushes them apart.</p>
<p>“Boys, please,” she says, the worry in her voice cutting through the tears, as she continues changing Manta Ray’s bandages.</p>
<p>“Right, well,” he continues. “The Pontifex used it to declare yer princesses bastards, and Amethar in violation of the Concord, so the crown passed to the next in line.”</p>
<p>“Joren” Calroy sighs. If he weren’t so infuriated by the events he might even be able to be impressed by the maneuvering it would have needed.</p>
<p>“But if Duke Jawbreaker is in open rebellion against the Concord...” Lord Swirlie trails off.</p>
<p>“Then yes, that means Candia is at war,” Calroy says. Donnie gasps, hand flying to cover her mouth as she shakes her head.</p>
<p>“Say it isn’t true, Manta Ray, please” Donnie begs. Tears shine in her eyes, and the helplessness Calroy has felt since the bells started spikes once again. Manta Ray’s face is understanding, even as he shakes his head.</p>
<p>“‘m afraid so,” he says, taking her hand in his. “Amethar and his lot fought, and fought well, but unfortunately not all of them made it out.” Another pause. “We may have hoped for peace in our lifetimes, but it looks like that won’t be the case.”</p>
<p>The Lord and Lady Swirlie exchange worried looks. Calroy’s heart breaks for them all over again. Even taking into account youthful countenance, the elder of the two would only just remember the war, if at all. He sees the same grim understanding in Morris’ eyes as they look at the young couple. They had fought their war, had lost friends and family, to prevent their children from ever having to face anything like it again. Yet here they were.</p><hr/>
<p>“It is imperative we search the house immediately!”</p>
<p>Strident voices echo from the street. The group looks at each other, alarmed. It’s been another hour since Manta Ray woke, but even with the sun hidden by the now total cloud cover none of them feel it safe enough to leave yet. But it seems they don’t get a choice, as the gate screeches open. Their time had run out. </p>
<p>They stand as a group, the three warriors at the front. Calroy’s hand rests on his rapier, but leaves it sheathed for the moment. Manta Ray sways, still unsteady on his feet.</p>
<p>“Wait in the garden. Anyone you see, detain them! You four, upstairs. Do not touch anything! We do not know what the witch dealt in. You, with me!” There is the snap of armoured salutes, and then the thundering of feet on the stairs. Calroy places the speaker as Commander Grissini moments before he and one other guard enter the atrium.</p>
<p>There is silence. Both look surprised at exactly who they have found, and the guard looks to his commander for orders. The six of them stand, dirty and tired, in some cases bloody. Grissini’s grip tightens and relaxes on his spear, his eyes dart across the group, his face is drawn. For a sliver of a second, Calroy hopes. </p>
<p>Then Grissini barks something in sharp Ceresian, and sprints forwards. He goes for Manta Ray, already weakened and barely beginning to draw his sword, before Morris slams into his side, knocking him off course. Calroy follows quickly behind, slashing twice. He’s had enough of losing friends.</p>
<p>The soldier who had entered with him dashes back into the house, yelling, as footsteps begin again to thunder through the halls. Donnie, brilliant Donnie, rushes behind him to the door and slams it shut, pulling down pedestals and statues to block the entrance. </p>
<p>Out of the corner of his eye, Calroy sees Lady Swirlie clasp her hands before throwing them in Grissini’s direction, and he feels it in his teeth as crystalline sugar shoots from her hands. Grissini stumbles back, face a mask of fear as he sways on his feet. Lord Swirlie darts past him, and Calroy readies an action to block whatever Grissini’s counter will be. Then Lord Swirlie socks the swaying Grissini in the jaw, and the commander collapses to the ground. Morris and Manta Ray look at each other, then back at Lord Swirlie.</p>
<p>There’s banging on the door, and Donnie runs back to them. Calroy grabs her and holds tight.</p>
<p>“What do we do now?” asks Lord Swirlie, lowering his fists. He glances between Grissini and the blocked door. Calroy regards him, clothed in peasant garb, uncomplaining from the instant he’d burst through the door, and smiles.</p>
<p>“Now, Lord Swirlie? We run,” says Calroy.</p>
<p>“Please,” he replies, grinning. There is blood on his knuckles. “Call me Finnegan.”</p>
<p>They grab their packs and sneak out the back of the complex, plastering themselves to alley walls when soldiers run down the main thoroughfare towards the palazzo. What few people are still on the streets avoid eye contact, as do they, following the setting sun to the edges of the city. Notices are tacked hastily to wells, declaring Candia an enemy of the Concordant Empire. Businesses with signs in Candian have shuttered their doors, or shattered windows.</p>
<p>The spaces between houses grow wider as they approach the edge of the city, until they reach a street that could more easily be called a lane. Between the houses are gardens, full to bursting of what takes Calroy a moment to recognise as ripening hybrids in the Fructaran soil, and he is hit with a pang of nostalgia for the muffin fields of his youth, and the gardens of sweetlings.</p>
<p>Patrolling the street is a single soldier, and it is only by luck that when he pauses, mere feet from their forms hidden in the shadows, he continues on his way without issue only moments later. Once there’s enough distance between them, it’s simple to dart across the street and between the trellises, through orchards bursting with fruits.</p>
<p>They have made it out.</p>
<p>The sun sets on the horizon, the swelling clouds of the afternoon finally delivering their promised rain, as they make their way through strawberry fields into the foothills of the rolling downs that surround Comida’s northwestern flank. When they finally settle for camp, Finnegan is not the only one to collapse to their knees, relieved.</p>
<p>Out of view of the roads, they tend a small fire and plan how to get to Candia. Half their company has proficiency in seafaring, but that’s only if they can get a boat. Morris, Manta Ray and Finnegan commiserate, and the common interest leads to wider conversation. The Swirlies kindly takes over preparing the meal, the most familiar with it out of the six of them. A canopy of leaves protects them from the rain. Donnie’s arms around him, Calroy lets himself be held. </p>
<p>He lets the events of the day catch up with him. Had it really only been this morning he’d told Amethar he was looking forwards to the celebratory feast? He’d let them go on without him, thinking no one would be so bold as to attack in a place of religious worship. He had barely considered the attack could come from the worshipers themselves, even after the arrest of Alfredi.</p>
<p>His mind is quick to conjure up the image of a rabbit, shattered. Even if he had not been there, he could more than imagine it, only blood and mud replaced by stone floors. And he had been harbouring suspicions of heresy, for what? Calroy closes his eyes. Says a prayer of mourning, but something tells him not to dedicate it to the Bulb. So he finishes it untethered to any deity, a whisper on the wind. The breeze holds the faintest hint of sugar.</p>
<p>Even in the hills, there is noise. Comida is the capital, and on any other night they would be able to hear the night city come alive, music and shouting and fighting and singing spilling out into the land surrounding it. But tonight, there is only the distant tolling of bells, and the marching of soldiers. From their position, the pinpricks of campfires light the fields surrounding the Glucian Road, a legion of soldiers ready to march come morning. </p>
<p>In the distance, a flash of lightning illuminates a storm brewing across the bay.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://www.ezracrowley.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>